Four Letter Word
by Moonofwinds
Summary: How Jazz and Prowl came together. Now COMPLETE! Happy New Years!
1. Chapter 1

Four Letter Word

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: How Jazz and Prowl came together.

Warning: Drunken robots, confusion, m/m robots

Pairings: Jazz/ Prowl

Bars were not Prowl's scene. The music was usually loud, grating, and wholly irritating. The mechs were usually about the same. Many of the places Prowl had spent his evenings lately had not been his scene, but mechs came in from all vices and they needed mechs. Though Prowl wasn't so certain they needed mechs that frequented spark clubs and minibot fight clubs.

"Mechs can do strange things in their spare time but still be decent mechs," Optimus had said. "And we need every decent mech we can find to join the Autobots. The greater tragedy in this war may be the number of decent mechs that join with the Decepticons because they simply don't know any better. And then pay the ultimate price."

Prowl hadn't had any argument against Optimus passion and conviction, and it didn't have one now as he sat on his stool at the far end of the bar. Around him, mechs were drinking, and dancing. At least this was a well lit establishment, unlike the last bar he had subjected himself to. That one, Prowl remembered with an unpleasant shudder, had had some unpleasant clientele. He had been mistaken for a pleasure bot; Primus only knew why anyone would ever take him for that. But the mech had been very stubborn, and not easily dissuaded. Nothing Prowl had said had been able to convince the mech that he was anything other than a normal patron.

"Yer far to pretty a mech to hang around here unless yer looking for customers," the mech had said.

Of course Prowl had been rendered speechless, which wasn't the best defence mechanism. Thank Primus, Ironhide had been there to find him in his dumbfounded state.

"Hey, Prowl, sorry to keep ya waiting," he'd said. "Let's go meet the others."

Worse still, Prowl had been so stupefied that he hadn't even been able to reply to Ironhide.

"So what was that about, Prowl?" Ironhide had asked.

All Prowl had been able to do in response was blink. And crash.

He'd woken up in Ratchet's clinic. Ratchet had insisted on helping him sit up and ran several scans to make certain his system had stabilized.

"What brought this on?" The medic had asked.

"I don't really want to talk about it," Prowl had said after an awkward minute.

"Come on now," Ratchet had said. "It helps to get these things off your spark."

"A mech there was rather insistent that I had to have been there on business," Prowl had finally said, looking down at his feet.

"Oh kid, that is a bit embarrassing," Ratchet had replied. He'd looked to Ironhide then and said: "you should probably advise Optimus that Prowl needs back up."

Prowl had been mortified. He'd been ready right then to argue his case but Ratchet had seen his narrowed optics and flashed him a sympathetic and reassuring smile.

"It could be really bad if you had a crash in mixed company," Ratchet said. "And I promise I am doing what I can to find out what is causing your issues."

Of course Ratchet had been right. Prowl had known it then as sure as he knew it now, but it didn't make him feel any less embarrassed. A grown mech and he still needed a Seeker. The thought still stung but Prowl was as determined, as he had been all his life, to live and to live well despite his crashes.

Though he didn't doubt the medic was working as best he could to resolve his crashed, Prowl had had them all his life and no one had ever found a cause for them. Ratchet was the best medic in the city, if not all of Cybertron, but somethings defied explanation. It was his first crash in a while but what an inopportune time. He was grateful that Ironhide had been there and that the irritating mech hadn't seen it.

So he wasn't alone this time. Somewhere in this brightly lit bar, back up existed in the form of Trailbreaker. At least he could see the faces of the mechs moving around him. A lot could be judged by ones' face. Friendly, or standoffish, how Prowl approached a mech varied accordingly.

"Cyberkitty! What a lovely surprise to see you here."

There was no question, Prowl had to have some of these worst luck on Cybertron. How was that mech here? Really, this was such a different place from the last dump, full of far more decently seeming mechs. No one was trying to hide in shadows, and yet still, this mech was here.

"My name is Prowl. Not Cyberkitty."

"Whatever you like, Princess," the mech said with a knowing grin.

Prowl twitched and gave the mech his sternest expression and in an equally stern voice: "you are not endearing yourself to me."

"Sweetspark, it's time to dance," a buoyant voice said from behind Prowl as an arm looped around his and pulled him along to the dance floor. The mech spun him around and smiled playfully.

"I'm Jazz," the mech said. "You're Prowl or Sweetspark to me. And Creepbot over there is watching so I suggest you play along."

Jazz led Prowl a little deeper onto the dance floor before settling for a spot out of sight of the creeper. He place his hands over Prowl's sides and danced him along to the rhythm of the anonymous song playing over the bar's speakers.

"You don't seem like the type that hangs around this sort of place," Jazz said.

"I suppose not," Prowl replied, just a little too confused and surprised to move away from Jazz.

"Friend abandon you?" Jazz asked with a sympathetic look.

"No, I'm here on business," Prowl explained. Jazz gave him an incredulous look and laughed warmly.

'This mech doesn't have a clue,' Jazz though to himself. He slipped one had around Prowl's back and caught Prowl's hand with the other. He pulled Prowl close and spoke against the other mech's neck.

"Who's business?"

"Optimus Prime's," Prowl replied, blinking a few times to clear his mind. It wasn't a secret, was it? He was supposed to be recruiting mechs.

"Autobot, then," Jazz said, humming into Prowl's throat. A shiver ran up Prowl's spine; he felt his face grow hot. "Figured. You're way to sweet to be a Decepticon."

"I'm not sure sweet has anything to do with it," Prowl replied stiltedly. Why in Primus' name was he letting this strange mech feel him up?

"Sure it does," Jazz replied and nibbled lightly on one of the sensitive cords that ran along his neck. "I've never met a sweet Decepticon. Come back tomorrow, Sweetspark. I'd love to talk to you again."

Jazz left a parting kiss on Prowl's neck before he slipped back into the thrall of dancers and was gone. Prowl stood still amongst the moving mechs for a least a minute or more. What had just happened? His face was burning when Trailbreaker came up to him and they headed out of the bar.

Unbeknownst to Prowl, Trailbreaker had watched the whole scene. It was more than a little difficult to keep a straight face when all he really wanted to do was grin and tease Prowl.

"How is it I seem to attract nefarious lechers?" Prowl asked as they walked along the empty streets of Iacon.

"Don't know but you have a pit of a talent for it," Trailbreaker replied. "But you seem to have handled it well."

'I'm not sure I was the one handling anything,' Prowl thought. He could still feel Jazz's mouth on his neck and his hand in his. His face felt so warm and his spark was tingling. He really should have discouraged Jazz. Prowl was not the sort of mech that hopped into another mech's berth the first night. But he got close enough to be truly aghast at himself. He didn't even know the mech. Still his touch had been... pleasant.

And he couldn't exactly place Jazz in a bad light, for the little he knew of him. He was a lech, that was a given, but he had protected Prowl from the creeper. Except that he was also a bit of a creeper. Really, Prowl couldn't understand why he thought of Jazz in a pleasant light where he cast creeper in a bad one. Creeper hadn't actually gotten anywhere. Jazz... He could still feel Jazz's denta against his neck. Prowl suppressed a shudder. Not an unpleasant one, but all the more an embarrassing one.

He didn't speak again until Trailbreaker and he had returned home to the maze of apartments Optimus had turned into Autobot headquarters.

He should have briefed Optimus immediately on the events of that night but instead Prowl followed his peds to his own private room. Once there, he sat on his berth and absently touched his neck as he stared at the bare wall ahead of him.

There was no doubt in his mind, he was going back there tomorrow, to see Jazz. He couldn't quite say why other than, strangely, he wanted to. He tried to convince himself that he saw potential in Jazz, potential to be an Autobot; he half succeeded... maybe not half.

When his face cooled and the tingle of Jazz's touch faded, Prowl got up and made his way to Optimus' office. He walked slower than normal, delaying the impending meeting. He prayed to Primus that Trailbreaker had not gone to Optimus and relayed his encounter with Jazz. He prayed fervently that Trailbreaker was feeling friendly and merciful and was inclined to keep the events of the dance floor to himself. Prime was at his desk, Ironhide at his side as always. Prowl read their faces and though neither was frowning, Prowl couldn't help but fear the worst. Optimus smiled and waved Prowl in. Something on Prowl's face must have been encouraging.

"You met a potential recruit?" Optimus asked.

"I think so," Prowl replied. "He wants to speak more tomorrow."

"Excellent!" Optimus said. "Consider your evening booked."

"Of course," Prowl replied. He was eternally grateful that his once again heated face was not obvious to the 'Bot in charge.

"I want to send Trailbreaker with you again," Ironhide said. "Just in case."

"Good idea," Optimus said with a nod. "Think it will be a problem, Prowl?"

"No," Prowl replied. "I don't foresee any problems."

"Think this mech will join up?" Optimis asked.

"I do," Prowl replied. "He isn't a 'Con. I think he'll make a good Autobot."

"You're an excellent judge of character, Prowl," Optimus said. "I don't doubt you at all. Get some rest. And good luck tomorrow."

"Thank you," Prowl replied and he bid Optimus and Ironhide a good night. He returned to his berth and thought that Jazz probably wanted to do far more than talk. Prowl shut his eyes and attempted to recharge. Something told him, probably the lingering tingle, that he would be dreaming of Jazz and the bar tonight. He attempted to settle himself in and shift his thoughts to something other than Jazz's smile, and the feeling of his touch, although faded, would not disappear.

Confusing as it was for him, Prowl couldn't bring himself to be unhappy with the idea.

A/N This is a prequel of sorts to Pulling Teeth. It is set in the past of the Teeth Verse.


	2. Chapter 2

Four Letter Word

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: How Jazz and Prowl came together.

Warning: Drunken robots, confusion, m/m robots

Pairings: Jazz/ Prowl

Most days Prowl met with Optimus and Ironhide and worked on tactics for dealing with Decepticon raids and skirmishes. Prowl was most at home with countless screens with countless pieces of data surrounding him, there he could think, and strategize and prepare. The most apt description for Prowl was that of a thinker. He was not so much a mech of action as he was one of thought.

The fact that Jazz had rendered him almost incapable of coherent thought was maddening. He had still been thinking, but he had not been able to act on his thoughts and that fact worried Prowl. Worse, on their first meeting, Prowl had been so completely shocked, he had been unable to contend with the creeper. The unexpected, that was what troubled Prowl. He just did not know how to cope with the unexpected. And Jazz was unexpected, wasn't he? The mech was one of the bubbliest Prowl had ever met and definitely the most forward. No one had been so open with him, and Prowl was certain no one had ever called him sweet.

He wasn't a cruel mech; he wasn't even rude, but sweet was a little far fetched. Prowl was absolutely certain he had not said or done anything that should have been seen as cute. Perhaps Jazz had a bit of a glitch. That must have been it.

Normally, he wouldn't have had the luxury of dwelling on an odd mech but Optimus and Ironhide were in Helix, and there was nothing for Prowl to do here but think. And the only thing he could think of, despite every attempt to the contrary, was Jazz.

Prowl has not an inexperienced mech. Sure, he wasn't as experienced as say Ironhide, but he was no blushing sparkling. Then again, Prowl doubted any mech had ever even tried to molest Ironhide on a dance floor. No, Ironhide would have been up on charges for murder.

Tonight, Prowl would not let himself get so flustered. There would be no nibbling on his neck, just the thought made his face hot all over again. He would be coherent, professional and he would find out more about Jazz than just his name.

It hadn't come up really at all, but Prowl did see the makings of an Autobot in Jazz, and he felt compelled to do everything in his power to bring the mech into the Autobot cause. Prowl hoped his circuits weren't scrambled, and that Jazz really did belong with them. Prowl hated self doubt, and rarely allowed himself to indulge in it. His instincts were excellent. If he thought a mech belonged with the Autobots, he was unfailingly correct.

Throughout the day his mind never strayed far from Jazz, so Prowl was actually rather relieved when evening came and he and Trailbreaker made their way to the bar. Trailbreaker said nothing of the night before, of which Prowl would be eternally grateful.

"I'm going to make sure Creeperbot isn't here tonight," Trailbreaker said as they entered the bar. Prowl nodded. With that, he was alone on the same stool as the night before. Anxiety hummed quietly in his circuits. What if Jazz didn't come?

It wouldn't matter. One wasted evening was hardly the end of the world. And yet the idea that Jazz would stand him up irritated Prowl more than he had expected. He shouldn't have worried.

"I'm glad you came, Sweetspark," Jazz said with his hands ghosting over Prowl's door wings. "Did you want to get a booth?"

"Yes," Prowl said instantly. He ignored the pleasant heat radiating from his door wings. It would be safer for them to talk with some semblance of privacy; a booth was a brilliant idea. All he needed to do was make certain Jazz didn't take it as an opportunity to feel him up more.

Jazz took Prowl's hand. He wouldn't let it go for the rest of the night.

"So tell me, Sweetspark," Jazz said as he took a seat across the small booth from Prowl. His fingers stroked gently against Prowl's palm. "What made you join the Autobots?"

"I didn't want to die," Prowl said simply.

"You think you'd die as a neutral?" Jazz asked; he was serious now, but the kindness and humour in his voice hadn't faded.

"Yes," Prowl replied. "Megatron is not going to allow anyone to stay neutral. Soon, too soon, I think, everyone will be forced to take a side."

"Do you think things should go back the way they were?" Jazz asked, thinking back to the class prejudice that had ruled Cybertron. The prejudice that still held power over mechs everywhere.

"No," Prowl replied. "Cybertron needs to change but I don't think Megatron wants to change it into anything other than his own personal kingdom."

"You're probably right," Jazz said. "I guess you know the Seekers have picked his side."

"Yes," Prowl said, there was a twinge of regret in his voice. "I don't blame them for feeling angry, for feeling like slaves or pawns, but all they've done is given themselves to a new master."

"Optimus is lucky to count you as his ally." Jazz said.

"What gives you that impression," Prowl asked curiously. "It's not that I am not flattered with your observation, I just want to know where you got it."

"I'm good at reading people," Jazz said. He looked at their joined hands and watched himself leisurely trace the joints of Prowl's fingers.. "And it's pretty obvious that you care. The fact that you care, alone, makes you a special mech."

"Most mechs cared," Prowl argued, a touch embarrassed and a little perturbed how good it felt to hold Jazz's hand.

"Most mechs try and hide it," Jazz replied. "You aren't even trying. You have a sweet spark, no question about it."

Prowl looked down at their hands. His face was too hot to let him look Jazz in the optics. His face grew even hotter as he let himself really feel the gentle strokes of Jazz's fingers against his. He shut his eyes in a vain attempt to cool his face. He only felt Jazz's optics and his touch that much more clearly.

"This is gonna get to be a bad habit," Jazz said after a few minutes. When Prowl looked at his face, he saw the strange mech was smiling.

"What?" Prowl asked, confusion painting his face.

"Embarrassing you," Jazz said. He grinned. "I like your reactions. You're far too sweet for words."

"I take it you want to stay neutral," Prowl said in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"As long as I can," Jazz said. "War's depressing. If I can stay out of it, I want to."

"Even if I don't think it's possible," Prowl said. "I still hope you can."

"Thanks," Jazz said and smiled brightly. "I know you have a job to do. But I want to see you again sometime soon."

"You will," Prowl replied, knowing full well that he would, because he wanted to see Jazz again too. He wanted Jazz to be an Autobot where seeing him again would be as simple as coming home.

They parted only when the bar closed. Jazz stole a quick kiss to Prowl's neck before he left the booth. Trailbreaker found Prowl just as Jazz disappeared. Prowl took a moment to gather himself, and they headed for home.

"Do you think he's going to join up," Trailbreaker asked.

"When something happens to him," Prowl said. "As long as he feels safe, he'll stay neutral."

"Don't want to wish him harm but..." Trailbreaker trailed off.

"Yes," Prowl said. "That's what I'm thinking too."

"Well," Trailbreaker said. "Sometimes people join up to be with their friends. Given time, he may just join up out of friendship with you."

"Perhaps," Prowl said. He whispered, more to the empty street than to Trailbreaker: "I just hope he doesn't get hurt in the mean time."

Optimus looked grim when Prowl stepped in the door. He immediately wondered if Optimus was disappointed he hadn't brought Jazz back, or if he had found out about the other night and was angered by Prowl's deportment.

Ironhide was nowhere in sight but Prowl could hear the 'Bots angry muttering from behind the closed door that led to his office behind Prime's.

"Helix is falling under Decepticon influence," Optimus said grimly when he saw Prowl. "Hound isn't optimistic about our chances there. The Towers are following under Megatron now."

"No," Prowl groaned. "The Towers control the Academy. That's a lot of mechs..."

"A lot of decent mechs," Optimus said wearily. "A lot of decent mechs are going to suffer. A lot of young ones."

"We should build an escape route," Prowl said. "An underground group of 'Bots that can help mechs out from under Megatron if they want to break free."

"Good idea Prowl," Optimus said less grimly. "Any luck with your meeting today?"

"He wants to stay neutral," Prowl said, himself disheartened. "I don't know how to convince him to join."

"You're doing enough talking to him, I think," Optimus said. "By knowing you aren't going to try and bully him, he's more likely to turn to us if he feels threatened by the Decepticons."

"I hope you're right," Prowl said. "He's a good mech. I don't want to see him enslaved by Megatron."

"Keep in contact with him, and I don't think that will happen," Optimus said. "I meant it when I said I have absolute faith in your judgement. I think this mech of yours will be an Autobot. With you in his corner, he won't be enslaved by Megatron."

"Thank you," Prowl said. "I should go elsewhere tomorrow, to push for more mechs but I won't turn my back on Jazz."

"A wise plan," Optimus said with a nod. "Are you up to working on this underground rail road idea of yours?"

"Absolutely," Prowl said. "If I can have Hound's reports, I'll get on it immediately."

"Here," Optimus handed Prowl a stack of reports. "Take your time. Better a good plan than a quick ramshackle one."

"Yes sir," Prowl agreed. "I'll have a first draft as soon as I am able."

"Just remember to recharge," Optimus said, finally smiling again. "Which reminds me, I had better be certain Ironhide isn't arming himself for an open assault on the Towers."

"A good plan, Optimus," Prowl said; he knew how personally Ironhide took losses like this. Optimus took it personally too. It was a good thing that before Optimus would feel the need to bully Ironhide, the other mech would be there to make certain their leader was taking care of himself. "Good night."

It struck Prowl how acutely he felt involved with Jazz. He didn't want to lose him to the Decepticons, whether by becoming one or by being a random casualty. The second seemed more likely than the first but it was a real risk, Megatron had no concern for the innocent. They didn't exist in his optics. Hopefully Jazz was as clever as he seemed and could keep himself safe. As it was now, Prowl made a promise to himself to make contact with the bot at least once a week. He would admit later that it really wasn't the desire to recruit Jazz that kept him in contact with the mech.

Just as he was readying himself for recharge, Prowl wondered why it was he still hadn't corrected Jazz from calling him Sweetspark. He would have crashed for certain if anyone had been in his room to see him fall into his recharge with a smile on his face.

Seconds after entering his recharge, Prowl shot up, optics wide. He'd kissed him. Again. And he hadn't said anything, hadn't thought about it until right this second. Primus either he was losing his mind or he was mooning over that mech like a naive sparkling.

He dearly hoped it was the former.

End Chapter 2

A/N Do you want to know what would make me oh so very happy? Draw fanart for any of my fics. I am not much of an artist and Low Bridge is taking her sweet time.

The LJ community I've created for G1 Transformers is community. Livejournal. com/g1transformers/

I'd love to have anyone interested in mech x mech fics and art to join and share the fandom.

Also, there is a poll in my profile to help me decide which version of smut to write as I can't seem to decide.

Also, could someone explain to my muse that having five plots intertwining together, two of which will be long buggers, refusing to separate themselves makes it a little difficult to concentrate on one thing. Oh well. Muse has had a cookie, maybe she'll behave.


	3. Chapter 3

Four Letter Word

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: How Jazz and Prowl came together.

Warning: Drunken robots, confusion, m/m robots

Pairings: Jazz/ Prowl

He dreamed of Jazz,two nights in a row. The first dream was maybe a little pleasant, if not more than a little disconcerting. Prowl woke up with a hot face, and the circuits around his spark drawn tight with lust. In that dream he was with Jazz on the dance floor again. Anonymous mechs moved around them, but almost as if in the slow motion. He did not see their colours, or their faces. They were insignificant. All that mattered in the dream was Jazz. He caressed Jazz's face with his finger tips and he kissed the mech with a ferocity that surprised him. The dream left him confused, and more than a little embarrassed but that was better than the second dream. It left him sick and panicked. In that dream he was alone on the dark streets of Iacon. They were dark. A light had been wrenched from them, and the once tall buildings lay shattered at his feet. Worse, at his feet, in his arms, Jazz was dead. His optics had gone dark. His circuits and wires torn from his body and Prowl could see his spark chamber, torn open, and his spark burnt out.

That dream had left Prowl's own spark cold for hours after he woke. His mood had been dark for the rest of the day. If the any of the others noticed his mood, they didn't say anything. But they must have noticed something. When he had locked himself in his office and buried himself in his plans, no one had even touched his door. On most days, when he had locked himself away, someone would knock on his door, whether to share in the plans or to simply talk.

Today, no one came, and Prowl couldn't help but be relieved. He didn't want to be asked what troubled him. He wanted to bury the dreams in thoughts of Helix. Who could be trusted to secret those in Megatron's sights away? There were no neutrals he knew in Helix, and Prowl didn't expect he would be meeting any, with the Academy and Towers bowing to Megatron, the days of neutrality could be counted on one hand. Even if there were neutrals they could trust in Helix, Prowl knew that Megatron would be after all of them. They would need to create several small safe houses around the Crystal Gardens. Who would mind them?

Trailbreaker could command one, maybe with one of the minibots. Smokescreen could take another. Perhaps he would take one as well. Prowl would need to go the Helix and find the right buildings, but it could be done. It would take time to set up too. It would take too long for many of the mechs but Helix would not be abandoned just yet.

The image of Jazz's burnt out spark flashed before Prowl's optics. He organized his plans and carried the stack to Optimus' office. He felt like he was a sparkling, but Prowl swore to his subconscious that he would not be cowed by a dream. He would seek Jazz out, not that he knew where to find him, but it would not be today.

He woke with tears clouding his optics and Jazz's name on his lips when he dreamed that night. This time he was holding Jazz, one hand over his mangled chassis, over his spark, when the light in his optics and his brilliant spark went out. It was only a dream but Primus, his spark hurt. When he felt he could breathe again, Prowl rolled onto his side, holding the hand that had been entwined with Jazz's to his chest. Prowl kept hugged it to himself, and eventually he succumbed to exhaustion and his recharge.

His mind was not on his work at all that morning. He'd barely rested after that dream and it was a genuine struggle not to run out of the building and into the streets in a frenzied attempt to find Jazz. But he succeeded. There was more work to be done. Neighbourhoods to consider for the safe houses, meetings to be held with Optimus, and he was supposed to be considering different business to look for recruits. By the end of the day he'd gotten little more done. At least little by his standards. Optimus made no comment when he had prepared to leave with Ironhide back to Helix. Prowl would stay behind, man the barracks, so to speak. There was no way to tell if Optimus felt compelled to return to Helix himself out of a sense of justice and passion for his cause, or if he didn't trust Prowl's mind to be on the job.

So he didn't clear it with Optimus when he made the decision, not too terribly late in the evening, to go to that bar on the slim chance that Jazz would be there. He didn't bring back up. He went alone down the still bright streets. It wasn't wise for him to go there alone, the odds of him finding Jazz there were slim. His odds of finding trouble were far higher, but the truth of the matter was he had not made the conscious decision to go after Jazz alone. He had just been in such a single minded hurry he had just forgotten to bring Trailbreaker.

Prowl noted his distinct lack of back up just as he turned the corner to the bar. For a brief second he considered turning back and finding Trailbreaker, but with the bar in sight, the only way his feet would move was forward. So he stepped into the bar, and took his familiar seat.

When Jazz didn't show himself in the first hour, Prowl wasn't surprised. He was deflated enough to order a cup of grade B energon. He drank it slowly. Jazz had failed to appear for yet another hour before he had finished it. Prowl couldn't bring himself to give up quite yet but he turned away the bartender when he asked if Prowl wanted another drink. Getting drunk on energon wouldn't lead Jazz back to the bar, and it wouldn't ease Prowl's mind.

"I didn't expect you to be here," Jazz said as he approached Prowl once again from the back.

"I came looking for you," Prowl admitted. He felt his spark flip with relief at the knowledge that Jazz was right here, and obviously alive.

"Sweetspark, you know just what to say to a mech," Jazz laughed and took the seat next to Prowl's and ordered them each a drink. "I've been coming here every night just in case you showed."

Prowl smiled slightly. The relief was still wholly overwhelming. He had no way of knowing that the exact same sentiment ruled Jazz at this moment. His face was just a little hot with the idea that Jazz had been looking for him too.

"What's your speciality?" Prowl asked, knowing full well that he knew almost nothing about the other mech. He should have been kicking himself for not asking sooner.

"I'm a saboteur," Jazz said with a proud grin. "The best, if I do say so myself."

Their drinks arrived and neither said anything for several minutes. Jazz seemed to stare into his cup for the longest time before he turned slightly and leaned against the bar, facing Prowl.

"So what about you, Sweetestspark?" Jazz asked. He smiled broadly, though not cruelly, at the embarrassed glint in Prowl's optics. He touched the tips of his fingers against the back of Prowl's hand, not wanting to miss a chance to touch the other mech.

"I'm a tactician," Prowl said when he trusted his voice. Jazz took an obnoxious amount of pleasure from embarrassing him.

"Why are they wasting you on recruitment jaunts?" Jazz asked.

"I'm the best choice," Prowl said. Though he wasn't so sure if Optimus had been right in that regard. "Besides, I can think anywhere."

Jazz smiled into his cup, hiding the predatory expression. They'd each gained another hint of the other's character and seemed satisfied to probe no further yet. So they drank in a comfortable silence, each of them held their drinks with their outside hands. Their inner arms stayed still on the bar, just barely touching.

Jazz must have been a lightweight or have drunk earlier, because he was a little tipsy by evening's end. Nearly wrapping himself around Prowl. Keeping the stoic mech almost painfully close. It wasn't noticeable from the outside looking in. Especially if anyone recognized them from their first meeting but Prowl felt acutely aware of Jazz's every movement. He could feel the pulse of energon under Jazz's armour and he could not help but revel in the knowledge that Jazz's spark was right there keeping his life glowing. Truth be told, Jazz wasn't tipsy, his feet were steady but they both seemed happy to pretend he was and Prowl took it as an excuse to chaperone the other mech home. Jazz offered no complaint, in fact he seemed to take great delight in being with Prowl outside the bar. The streets were sparsely populated. For lack of a better word, they were alone. And Jazz did revel in it, keeping close to Prowl, some part of their bodies always touching. Though he felt a little nervous, a side effect of Jazz's effect over him, Prowl couldn't bring himself to even try and keep Jazz at arm's length. He took comfort in the enthused mech's presence, in the touch and passed off Jazz affections as expected, of Jazz being an unsurprisingly friendly drunk.

It would have been embarrassing if anyone had known why Prowl let Jazz stay so close. A grown mech so affected by a dream, but there was no way for Jazz, the only mech there, to know. They made their way to Jazz's lodgings far quicker that Prowl had expected. Apparently, Jazz lived quite close, not just to the bar but to him.

"Love you, Sweetspark," Jazz said before he disentangled himself from Prowl and stepped into his doorway. "You can stay you know."

"I should go," Prowl said, instantly aware of his profound desire to run. "I don't want to worry the others."

The smile on Jazz's mouth was almost sad, but then it flashed as bright as ever. He pulled Prowl to him, holding both of the other mech's hands, and he breathed against Prowl's jaw.

"Next time," he said, and he released Prowl's hands, before stepping fully into his home and shutting the door.

Prowl didn't realize he was running until he was almost all the way home. He felt bitter and ashamed. If he ran fast enough, maybe he could escape the ache in his spark chamber.

"Prowl?" Trailbreaker asked cautiously as Prowl burst into their headquarters. Prowl shook his head, and continued on to his room, unwilling to say anything. Trailbreaker watched him go, a concerned frown on his face. He would let Prowl have his privacy. If Prowl felt he needed to get something off his spark, he would seek someone out, otherwise it would be kindest just to let him sort himself out. With the strategist accounted for, Trailbreaker felt safe to go to his berth and rest.

Stupid glitch. Prowl grimaced as he collapsed on his berth, his face in his hands. How had he managed to fall for Jazz after four days? Especially after their first meeting. That should have been warning enough that Jazz was not the type of mech you let yourself become emotionally involved with. He wanted to call it lust, but from the way his spark ached to its core, Prowl knew it was not.

He let out an exasperated sigh. Prowl was angry at himself for falling so quickly for anyone, but even more so for falling for someone who would never really care for him back. It would have been easiest to cast Jazz off then as a ne'er do well. But Jazz's oblique sexuality didn't make him any less worthy a mech for the Autobots. It didn't fade Prowl's resolve to keep Jazz from Megatron. Even as he knew he would forever run away from Jazz with his tail between his legs, Prowl couldn't stop his spark from hurting.

Prowl resolved to keep Jazz at a safe distance from then on. Desire and the sting of humiliation would fade if he just gave it a little time.

End Chapter 3

A/N You know what might be the best scenario for fighting writer's block and other such joyous distractions? Go away to the middle of nowhere, and I mean the middle of nowhere, and bring your writing implements, paper or computer, whatever you prefer. Trust me, it works like a hot damn. Though what a hot damn does, I have no idea.


	4. Chapter 4

Four Letter Word

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: How Jazz and Prowl came together.

Warning: Drunken robots, confusion, m/m robots

Pairings: Jazz/ Prowl

Prowl didn't know how long he could take this. Jazz loved to touch. Innocently or not so innocently, whenever they met, the other mech found some excuse to touch his hands, his back, his neck. Since he had resolved to keep Jazz at arms length he hadn't been particularly successful. He had succeeded in shying from Jazz's attempts to kiss him, but Jazz seemed infinitely patient and even if Prowl started off their meeting at a distance by the end of it, Jazz was somehow right against him, side to side or holding his hand. Even the seemingly innocent touches hurt. They fed the longing that had twisted around Prowl's circuits and refused to release him. He never would have expected a simple four letter word to hurt so much but it did. Prowl found no pleasure in it.

It was clear Jazz noticed the change, or he wouldn't have changed his tactics to this sneaking approach. He whispered Prowl's nickname in soothing tones that made Prowl want to crawl out of his armour. There was so much affection in Jazz's voice but it felt false to Prowl's hearing. He probably used the same tone with any mech he wanted in his berth. And part of Prowl wanted to go along with it. Actually, half of Prowl wanted to lose himself in Jazz's affections and to the pit with the consequences.

Thankfully it was the dominate half of his mind that called for restraint, and for caution. Falling into Jazz's bunk would have far too many dire consequences. He wasn't a masochist and having only half of Jazz would be a little death. Worse still, he might even fall harder for Jazz and Prowl didn't know how he could survive that with any of his dignity intact.

So he withdrew that much more from Jazz. He still saw him a few times a week but the outings were shorter. Prowl buried himself in his plans for Helix and gave himself as little time as possible to dwell on his mistake. Finally, it was time for him to go.

"Helix?" Jazz asked angrily. "Are you out of your slagging mind?"

"I've work to do," Prowl said, his tone a little darker after Jazz's outburst. What business was it his to be angry?

"How long will you be gone?" Jazz asked, his anger contained for now.

"I don't know," Prowl replied. It was the truth, he didn't know.

"Are you even planning to come back?" Jazz snapped. "Or is this a convenient excuse to ditch me? Better yet, do you have some sort of martyr complex like the rest of the Autobots?"

"Martyr complex?" Prowl replied with genuine venom. "Just because we care enough to involve ourselves in protecting other mechs, doesn't mean we plan to martyr ourselves. Maybe it just means we care about mechs other than ourselves."

"For a tactician, you really are an idiot," Jazz said. He didn't give Prowl a chance to reply. He just left.

Prowl didn't know why he had reacted so badly but the anger didn't fade even as he returned home. The stupid thing he had ever done was fall for Jazz. And that mistake was moot now. He highly doubted that Jazz would seek him out now.

He fed his anger, and used it as fuel to strengthen his resolve to distance himself from Jazz and concentrate solely on the Autobot cause. There was only a lingering whisper that did not fade, that begged him to find Jazz and apologize. His pride, still bruised, made it easy enough to ignore.

His mood was still a little sharp. He wasn't prepared to suffer arguments from anyone but his commanding officers in regards to his new plan.

"Let Megatron have the Towers," Cliffjumper grumbled. "They're fawning all over him already. There isn't an Autobot amongst them."

"Living in the Towers doesn't make a mech evil," Prowl said, brokering no further argument. "We aren't going to toss any mech aside just because they were created in a different caste."

Cliffjumper grumbled. He didn't stop grumbling all the way to Helix, or even once they had arrived. But he never spoke loud enough to garner Prowl's attention. Though the grumbling increased exponentially when he discovered that Prowl had stationed him with Hound in the closest safe house to the Towers. Prowl didn't stay long enough to hear his complaints.

Smokescreen and Brawn were stationed in a house in the vice district. Like every other city on Cybertron, Helix too had fight clubs. Brawn would fit in fine. Where there were fights, there was gambling and there was no better place for Smokescreen to operate.

"I don't like leaving you on your own," Prowl said to Trailbreaker. "But you will be the last stop before we get mechs out of Helix. You're best equipped at defending yourself and any mechs in your care."

Trailbreaker nodded. Prowl had changed just a little since they had left Iacon. He was grimmer, and more withdrawn. But Trailbreaker knew what a private mech Prowl was and he didn't want to press him. Though if he was inclined to discuss the change with Smokescreen he would have put money on it involving Jazz.

"I don't expect too many mechs will come your way," Prowl continued. "But I do hope for more than I am expecting."

"Same," Trailbreaker said. He was telling a half truth. The task of delivering supplies to the safe houses was hazardous and he knew he would need the most. The less mechs he had to mind, the less he had to do, the less energon he would waste on day to day living. "You're on your own too?"

"Yes," Prowl said. He felt a twitch of annoyance that Trailbreaker was concerned but quickly ignored it. Trailbreaker was just a kind Bot. "It's fine. I'll be monitoring all the houses and routes. I don't foresee any trouble on my end."

"Well good luck," Trailbreaker said. "I'll contact you in two days with an update as planned."

"Good," Prowl said. "Keep safe."

Prowl went on to his own safe house alone. They didn't plan on sending any mechs his way. He had set up his house as a sort of war room. It connected to all the other houses through a maze of alleyways and underground tunnels. If everyone followed his directions and everything went as planned, they would be able to move about Helix without attracting any unwanted attention. They wouldn't get killed.

Jazz's words still stung, but Prowl could see now that he had, and still was, overreacting. He was so sensitized thanks to his feelings for Jazz, that he had lashed out as a way of protecting himself. He hadn't been fair to Jazz, in fact he had been sparkless. Prowl made a promise to himself to track down Jazz as soon as he was able, and apologize, and say a proper good bye. Because though he realized his error, Prowl would not torment himself by involving himself with Jazz any more than he already had. Ironhide could take up the task of trying to recruit the saboteur, and with Prowl in Helix, emotions would have time to fade.

What Prowl didn't know, what he couldn't know was that Jazz was no longer in Iacon. With only the location of Helix to start with, Jazz wasn't optimistic about how long it could take him to find Prowl. The odds of his Sweetspark making himself obvious were non-existent. So he moved about Helix hoping to hear whispers of Autobots.

And thank Primus he did. Even sooner than he would have dared to hope. Thankfully Minibots were a chatty bunch. Making up for their small statures with loud voices and the complete incapability of subtlety. Jazz had never been so happy for their creation. A particularly cranky yellow one was arguing about the refereeing of his fight and at the same time celebrating it as the last one he would need to be in. From now on when he fought, it would mean something. An Autobot called Brawn would be taking him to one of their secret bases.

Prowl had never mentioned that name, but then he had never mentioned the name of any of the Autobots. He hadn't trusted Jazz with the knowledge, or maybe it was just that Jazz had never asked. That would change. He intended to get to know everything about Prowl. Everything about who he cared about, what he cared about and where he came from. Jazz wanted to really know him in all of his experiences. What he knew about Prowl made the easily embarrassed mech Sweetspark to him, but Jazz realized he needed to know more before he had any hope of a future with him. If he showed he wanted to know him, maybe Prowl would stop running away. Jazz had gambled and lost but he endeavoured to make up for his mistake.

He was waiting in the shadows when Brawn came to find the cranky mech the next morning. Jazz hadn't recharged or rested at all. His systems were in overdrive with anticipation and a little anxiety. Everything he cared for right now hung on whether or not the minibots knew how to lose a tail. There was another bot with Cranky and Brawn. This one Jazz knew sensed they were being followed. Thank Primus, the other two didn't bother to listen.

They wove through alley ways, and more than once Jazz and nearly lost them, but the brightly coloured mechs stood out against the silver and grey of the alleys. Finally, and slag it felt like hours but couldn't have been even one, they reached their destination.

Jazz watched them enter a simple nondescript house. It was tucked away amongst rows of identical such houses surrounded by gambling houses and brothels. The image didn't fit what Jazz thought of Autobots and his spark twisted and rage boiled in his circuits. Were brothel keepers, slave traders masquerading as Autobots in order to catch mechs? Jazz seethed at the idea; something like this would break Prowl's spark.

Without a second thought, Jazz went for the door. He opened the flap of his arm, his lock pick equipment ready as always to meet his needs. It wasn't necessary. Jazz turned the handle and found the door unlocked; he shrugged quickly, opened the door and stepped in. The minibots were standing there, all three stared at him. The observant one, a yellow and blue mech, looked at the others and said:

"I told you we were being followed."

Within seconds, Jazz was staring at the dangerous end of two guns. He grimaced. This was not a well thought out plan.

"Is Sweet, err, is Prowl here?" Jazz asked quickly.

The minibot called Brawn blinked, he turned his head and leaned back to shout through a doorway to his left.

"Hey Smokescreen," he yelled. "Some mech's looking for Prowl."

Smokescreen entered the room and gave Jazz a once over. He shrugged his shoulders just slightly and said:

"I've never seen you before. Prowl isn't here but I can take you to him," Smokescreen said. "You're coming too, Brawn. Prowl's probably going to want to chat with you."

"Thank you!" Jazz beamed and his spark threatened to leap out of his chassis, and he grinned wildly. "I'm Jazz."

"Didn't know Prowl had friends outside the Autobots but he isn't exactly chatty," Smokescreen replied. "This way, Jazz."

Jazz didn't bother trying to suppress his grin. He followed Smokescreen back out the door and into another alley. Caution dictated Jazz keep his eyes on Smokescreen and the minibots that came with him. He hadn't lived this long by getting caught up in traps. Smokescreen led him through one alley way after another. Whether they slipped through camouflaged doors or an alley fed into the other. They twisted around the maze of Helix's backstreets. By the time the last alley way opened into an unremarkable street somewhere in the labourers district, Jazz's was practically vibrating with anxiety and excitement.

This door was locked. Smokescreen didn't even try to turn the handle. He knocked twice, and looked completely at ease. Moments later the door opened. Prowl stood in the doorway. His face was a mask of surprise and confusion. Jazz smiled even brighter and as Prowl tried to step out the doorway, Jazz pushed Smokescreen out of the way, Prowl back through the doorway, and entered the house himself. He shut the door in Smokescreen's face and locked it behind him.

Outside, Smokescreen stared at the door. Brawn bounded up the steps and looked to Smokescreen as he asked:

"So what? Do we shoot the door down?"

"No," Smokescreen said and he shook his head. "I'm sure Prowl will be fine."

Brawn didn't argue, and he turned back to the alley and their route back to their safe house. He was definitely not about to argue, Prowl was probably going to give him an audio full for getting followed and leaving the door unlocked, and Brawn would like just as well to delay that lecture.

End Chapter 4

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to my readers and to everyone else in the world wide web.

I'm taking a break from updating while I enjoy the holiday; look for me in the New Years.


	5. Chapter 5

Four Letter Word

Chapter 5

Here be smut and the end of the fic.

I am planning a sequel but I want to finish a few fics before I get to work on it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers; I'm just prostituting it for my amusement.

Summary: How Jazz and Prowl came together.

Warning: Drunken robots, confusion, m/m robots

Pairings: Jazz/ Prowl

Prowl's optics were wide with surprise, and he was speechless. Relief flooded every one of Jazz's circuits and he wrapped his arms around Prowl and pulled him tight. Partly out of reflex, Prowl hugged Jazz back. Any past anger was forgotten. It felt too good seeing Jazz again.

"Thank Primus for minibots," Jazz said after a while. "I would never have found you without them."

"What are you doing in Helix?" Prowl asked, confusion evident in his voice.

"This is where you said you were going," Jazz said. "I had to find you, so where else could I go?"

"I don't understand," Prowl said.

"I insulted you because I was scared," Jazz said. "I don't want anything to happen to you. But that wasn't fair to you. I've heard your resolve when you talk about the Autobots and you've be kind enough to put up with me, even though I haven't joined your cause. You didn't keep talking to me because you just wanted me to join up."

"No," Prowl replied. "But I insulted you worse."

"I upset you," Jazz said.

"Yes, but that isn't why I said it," Prowl explained. He sighed. "I wanted to push you away. I wanted to run away from you and I cut you down as a means to do it."

"Ouch," Jazz winced. "What changed your mind now?"

"Nothing," Prowl admitted. "Jazz, I don't know how to think around you. I'm running scared around you."

"Why?" Jazz asked.

"Because we want different things from each other," Prowl said. He stepped out of Jazz's arms. Leaving one hand over Jazz's spark chamber. "I can't just... I don't climb into a mech's berth just for the pleasure of it. I can't..."

"Ah Prowl," Jazz said with as serious an expression Prowl had ever seen. He clasped his hands around Prowl's and pulled them against his chassis. "Do you really think all I want from you is an overload?"

"Umm..." Prowl said dumbly. He blinked several times.

"Nope," Jazz laughed. "Sorry Sweetspark, but I want every last part of you. Your hands, your feet, your doorwings. And especially your spark. Just because I said it when I was a little drunk doesn't mean I didn't mean it. I love you, Prowl."

Prowl crashed. His optics slipped shut and he collapsed in a heap. Jazz caught him before he hit the floor, and sat on the floor with Prowl on his lap. Fear overwhelmed Jazz as he shook Prowl gently and pleaded with him to wake up. But he didn't. Jazz only breathed a small sigh of relief when he confirmed that Prowl was at least still functioning. He barely noticed that he couldn't stopped whispering Prowl's name, and he couldn't pull his optics away from Prowl's face. His hands moved to Prowl's face and he pleaded to Primus, to anyone for Prowl just to wake up.

Jazz didn't know what to do. He didn't know anyone in Helix and he had no way of contacting the Autobots. Though he could find his way back to the other safe house, Jazz refused to leave Prowl alone, offline and defenceless. All he could do was sit on the floor, holding Prowl against him and begging for him to just wake up. And he did, eventually. Jazz nearly wept as he watched Prowl open his optics and look up at him with confusion, and then understanding. With his hands on Prowl's face, Jazz felt the downed mech's face head up.

"I crashed," Prowl said evenly.

"Crashed?" Jazz said, his voice uneven with his still overwhelming panic.

"Yes," Prowl said. "I have a glitch. Sometimes I just. Crash."

"A glitch," Jazz repeated the words. "So you're okay?"

"Yes," Prowl said. "It doesn't hurt me. It's just inconvenient."

"And terrifying," Jazz said. "I thought you were dying."

"I'm fine," Prowl said. He sat up in Jazz's arms and turned to face him. "I promise."

"Okay," Jazz said, the panic hadn't yet begun to fade from his optics.

"It turns out we do want the same thing," Prowl said. He slipped his hands behind Jazz's face and kissed him.

At first Jazz didn't respond, stunned to inaction by Prowl's assertiveness. But it didn't take long for Jazz to brush off his surprise and dive fully into the kiss. He didn't want to pull away. He cupped his hands over Prowl's shoulders and lost himself in the moment. He finally broke from the kiss and leaned his forehead into Prowl's and looked into the other mech's lust clouded optics.

"So you love me?" Jazz asked.

"I do," Prowl replied. He stroked the tips of his fingers against the back of Jazz's neck. Jazz shut his optics and leaned back into Prowl's touch. "I'm sorry."

"So you really thought I was that loose?" Jazz asked. He kissed along the edge's of Prowl's helmet.

"Yes, I'm sorry," Prowl replied. "I'm sorry. I judged you before I really knew you."

"I can't blame you for getting that impression," Jazz said. "And you loved me pretty quick too. Besides, I was kinda forward with you from the word go."

"A little," Prowl said. His own optic's closed.

"Like when I nibbled on your neck the first time we met?" Jazz asked while he mimicked the aforementioned action. Prowl swallowed hard.

"Yes," Prowl said carefully.

"And when I just barely touched your doorwings?" Jazz asked, not just mimicking the action but properly rubbing circles along the sensitive edges of the wings. Prowl made a small sound and raised his doorwings to Jazz's touch. He shivered as his circuits began to overheat and flood with pleasure and lust.

"Yes," Prowl murmured. "Jazz."

"And when I breathed against your neck and kissed you," Jazz said, leaving small kisses along Prowl's face and neck as he breathed against Prowl's heated plating. "Whenever I got the chance."

"Jazz," Prowl said. He didn't know what he meant to say. All he could do was moan Jazz's name.

"I'm never going to stop kissing you," Jazz said. "Whenever I get a chance, I am going to kiss your beautiful mouth, or your perfect neck. I'm going to play with your doorwings to distract you when you are working too hard."

Prowl dragged his fingers along the sensitive joints of Jazz's shoulders, hoping to torture the other mech with the same painful pleasure that throbbed in his circuits. Jazz hummed against Prowl's face and shook with the growing ecstasy flooding his systems. He leaned in close and just basked in moment.

"We should go to my berth," Prowl said.

"Do you really want to?" Jazz asked.

"Oh very," Prowl replied. "Since you asked me to stay the night."

"Thank Primus we're on the same page," Jazz grinned, and helped Prowl up.

Neither mech took their hands off the other as they covered the short distance to Prowl's private room. Jazz took total control, the moment he saw Prowl's berth. From here on, he knew exactly what he wanted to do. First, he wanted Prowl on that berth, and Primus must have been in a great mood because Prowl didn't complain at all when Jazz half pushed/ have nudged him down.

"I'm going to memorize every inch of you," Jazz said as he stared down at Prowl, his optics were bright and wide with lust. Prowl couldn't have known how intoxicating he looked, leaning back on his hands, one knee bent, his own lust filled eyes looking back at Jazz. He didn't look wanton, this was so much better than wanton. He looked welcoming.

Jazz took Prowl's face in his hands, it was warm. Prowl was so perfect, right down to his blushing. There was a smile on Jazz's lips as he closed the meagre distance between him and Prowl, and kissed the other mech with all the love in him. Prowl returned the kiss with the same intensity and Jazz hummed his pleasure back at him. A gentle rhythm filled the room as Jazz turned his internal radios to the appropriate song. They didn't kiss to the music but the warm notes accentuated the emotions radiating from both mechs. Jazz dove deeper into Prowl, and pushed the object of his affections back against the berth. Prowl didn't resist, in fact he welcomed the chance to put his hands to better use, all over Jazz. He felt along the seams of Jazz's helmet and up to tease the pert horns that topped it. Jazz moaned into Prowl, leaving no room to doubt how sensitive those spots were. If Jazz gave Prowl the chance, the stoic mech would have him in pieces in minutes. Not that the idea was unpleasant but Jazz was a mech of his word and he was going to map Prowl's form with his fingers and his mouth.

Even though he was strung tight with anticipation and arousal, Jazz promised himself that he would take his time. He smoothed his fingers down Prowl's neck and began to knead his fingers along Prowl's shoulders, down the the seam where his door wings joined his back. Prowl arched his head back, breaking the kiss and gasped sharply. The rumble of his engine and the hiss of his intakes grew louder and faster. Jazz tasted Prowl's jaw, his nose and his chin. He gently smoothed his mouth around Prowl's partially shuttered optics. Prowl clutched the back of Jazz's head and moaned the other mech's name.

Jazz nearly fell apart at the way Prowl said his name. It was better than any music, in any galaxy. At this rate, he would never make it to Prowl's feet, at least not this round. That needy, wondrous cry drove the energon in his circuits hot.

"You have no idea how amazing you look," Jazz hummed breathlessly in Prowl's audios. "And how intoxicating you sound."

"Are you teasing me?" Prowl asked, his voice heavy with want. He drew circles over Jazz's sensory horns with his finger tips.

"Never," Jazz gasped and shuddered with pleasure. "I mean every word."

Prowl felt his intakes scream as his whole systems burned with pleasure at Jazz's words. His fans and intakes screamed and Prowl concluded it would only be fair if he could make Jazz feel just as overwhelmed and adored as he did. He teased Jazz's sensitive horns and smiled with a certain smugness as Jazz's own intakes roared to cool the other mech's heated systems. And both mechs did their best to drive each other mad. Prowl curled his fingers into the seams along Jazz's sides. Jazz sank his fingers into Prowl's hips. Desperate, demanding need drove them both; Jazz decided that mapping Prowl would take more than one 'face session. It wasn't in him to be disappointed. His fingers teased the seams of Prowl's codpiece. Jazz's own codpiece felt painfully tight as he traced leaking lubricant around the seams. The question was in his optics when he met Prowl's.

His answer was Prowl's ordering the protective plating to open, baring his valve and hardened cable to Jazz. Jazz looped one of his legs between Prowl's and flattened the rest of his body against Prowl and he kissed him deeply. Glossas sparred and Jazz teased the first of his fingers against the erogenous silver rim of Prowl's valve. Prowl was hot and wet with pleasure and the feeling of his valve tightening against Jazz's finger made the other mech groan languidly. Prowl's groan was more urgent. It had been a long time since he'd indulged in such activities, and he felt dangerously close to overloading just from the lightest of Jazz's touches. Jazz eased two fingers into him and Prowl quaked. A soft moan escaped Prowl and he toyed with Jazz's horns and he poured himself into the other's cry.

Neither mech was patient, each drawn so close to their limits. Jazz sank his burning cable into Prowl's equally burning valve and groaned as Prowl gasped. Simultaneously, both their chassis interface panels opened and greedily, needily, they found their interface cables and connected themselves in each other's ports. Sensory overload was imminent as both Jazz and Prowl were overwhelmed their processors opened to each other. Their thoughts ran together at a fevered pitch.

"Yes," Jazz begged aloud as a whisper of a thought from Prowl came to the forefront of his own mind. Prowl caught Jazz's hands as their spark chambers opened. As their sparks merged for the first time, they overloaded together.

"I'd better meet Optimus if I'm going to join up," Jazz said hours later.

"I can't ask you to do that," Prowl said. "You don't need to be an Autobot to be with me."

"You aren't asking me to do it," Jazz said. "There's nowhere you can go now where I won't be following you."

"You have an obsessive personality," Prowl said, deadpanned, though internally he grinned in pure joy. "We could die. One of us or both of us."

"Then I'm not going to waste a minute pretending it won't all be worth it," Jazz replied. "I'll be with you to the Pit and back, Sweetspark."

"You really need to stop calling me that," Prowl sighed. "The others will never let me hear the end of it."

"But I can call you it in private," Jazz asked, optics widening, and a huge grin plastered over his face.

"If you must," Prowl said, resigned.

"Oh I must," Jazz smiled. He curled his fingers over the edges of Prowl's doorwings and watched Prowl's optics glow. "Sweetspark, Sweetspark, Sweetspark."

End of fic

A/N. Consider reading the smut while listening to Head Over Heels by Alanis Morrissette. It's what I was listening to when I wrote it, and it fits.


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